


Will I Ever Be Real?

by eahuhse



Series: Trans Newsies One-Shots [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coping, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Soft Spot Conlon, Supportive Racetrack Higgins, The Sims 4, Trans Male Character, Trans Spot Conlon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eahuhse/pseuds/eahuhse
Summary: Spot can normally get his dysphoria under control. But after a bad night that leads to a bad day, he needs some help from his boyfriend.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Trans Newsies One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810693
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Will I Ever Be Real?

**Author's Note:**

> This one is based off of a lot of my bad days, sorry if it seems dumb.

Spot sighed as he looked at the ceiling, his head falling on the soft pillows. He looked to his right and smiled at Race’s snoring figure. He grumbled in his sleep and turned over, tugging the covers over his body as his golden curls flopped to the side.

The smaller boy groaned, and as he shifted he felt the weight of his chest shift with him. He gritted his teeth, trying to contain his frustration. Race would never let him sleep with a binder on, and Spot knew it was bad for him. That didn’t make it any easier to try to sleep with his chest shifting and being a constant reminder that no matter what he did, he would never be a real boy.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, and he furiously wiped them away as he sat up and unlocked his phone. He swiped through photo after photo, looking at the memories of him and Race. But he couldn’t help noticing the features he tried to avoid. The small curve of his chest in some photos when they stood sideways, the lack of an Adam's apple like Race, the way his shirts didn’t quite fit his shoulders.

Spot groaned and exited his photos, opening his notepad to find the one thing that kept him calm in these scenarios. It was a letter written by Race filled with reassurances, and could usually hold the dysphoria at bay. He tapped on the note and took a slow breath before reading.

_ Hey Spot, I know you’re maybe not feeling good, but trust me it’s all good. Don’t you ever forget how much I love and support you. You’re my handsome boyfriend and I’ve known it from the very beginning. _

_ Even back in highschool, when you weren’t out, I could tell you weren’t someone ordinary. You fought, swore, played sports, and hung out almost exclusively with guys. But that don’t make you any less of a boy, to me it makes you more of one. _

_ You’re the most beautiful boy I ever saw, and I’m so lucky to see your handsome face every morning. To me, you’ll always be the boy I fell in love with, and fall even deeper in love with every day. That voice in your head is wrong, you’re handsome, and I don’t care about your body. It’ll change, just like you. _

_ Your Lover Boy, _

_ Race  _ 💖

Spot let out a long exhale, before closing the note and laying down to sleep again. The weight of his chest moved with him, but he tried to ignore it as he wiped the few remaining tears from his eyes and fell asleep.

\---

When he woke up, he did not feel better. In fact, he seemed to feel worse than he had during the night. Every movement he felt his weight shift, the way his shoulders were narrow and his hips were wide. No matter what he did he couldn’t get rid of the intrusive thoughts that swirled as he got up from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom.

_ You’re not a real boy...you have to get needles to be a boy. You hide your chest because otherwise everyone will know the truth. You’re a fake, maybe it’s all in your head. _

Tears blurred Spot’s vision as he shut the bathroom door and grabbed his binder from the floor, tugging it over his head and securing it over his chest. He sighed, the voices a little quieter as he sat on the toilet and held his head in his hands. His shoulders shook as he cried, wiping his nose to try and reduce the noises of his sniffles.

He finally exited the bathroom looking exhausted as he reached the kitchen, only to see a small note stuck to the fridge. He grabbed it and read his boyfriend’s messy handwriting.

**_Morning Spotty, I gotta go to class. See you later, eat please!_ **

Spot nodded to himself, heading back to their shared bedroom and taking a large sweatshirt and pants from his closet. He pulled the clothes on, finally glancing down at his body to see that he looked more passable. He nodded, before going back to the kitchen and grabbing leftovers from the fridge, looking out the window to see the sun lighting up the city.

The clock on the wall told him it was already close to noon, which meant Race would be home sooner than Spot had thought. He ate in silence, eventually grabbing a snack after his midday meal and sitting on the couch watching a show he had very little interest in.

It was simply a distraction from the unsettling feeling still lingering in his chest. The door burst open as Race stepped inside and threw his school bag to the chair next to Spot. The smaller boy didn’t even flinch, his face fixed on the screen. Race closed the door, before finally noticing his boyfriend curled on the couch in rather warm clothes for June.

He sat next to Spot, gently putting a hand on his arm. Spot tugged away, and Race nodded to himself. He turned off the television, Spot’s eyes still not moving. He barely noticed the sudden silence, and only moved when Race knelt in front of him.

“Hey Spotty.” Race whispered, trying to hide his concern. “What’s up?”

“Just don’t feel good.” Spot grumbled, his arms crossing over his chest as if to protect himself. Something clicked in Race’s mind, and he bit his lip before standing.

“I’ll be right back okay?”

Spot nodded in response, not planning on moving anytime soon. Race disappeared into the kitchen, digging through the freezer to find Spot’s favourite ice cream and filling a bowl before making his way back to the couch. He placed the bowl in Spot’s lap, watching his boyfriend carefully hold the bowl and eat a small bite of ice cream.

Race turned the television on, plugging his Xbox in and opening the Sims 4. He glanced at Spot to see the smaller boy’s eyes fixated on what Race was doing, and he smiled to himself. He started a new game, and then handed the remote to Spot.

“Make a Sim.” Spot gave him a confused look, spooning more ice cream into his mouth but not speaking. Race sighed before taking the remote back and shuffling closer to his boyfriend. “Then walk me through. Let’s make you, yeah?”

Spot’s eyes filled with a sudden recognition and nodded, watching as Race picked the closest skin tone to his own. He slowly leaned into Race’s side, and the taller boy smiled down at him.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Spot muttered, and Race nodded.

“Alrigh’, but later okay? I ain’t gonna leave you like this.”

“Fine.” Spot grumbled, snuggling more into his boyfriend’s touch.

Race nodded, and they continued to design simulated Spot. When they were finished, Spot sat up straight and stared intently at the screen.

“You think I’ll ever really be like that?” he mumbled, not intending for Race to hear.

“Yeah, I do.”

Race gently pulled Spot into a hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The smaller boy wrapped his arms around Race, breathing in his familiar scent as he relaxed and let Race leave small kisses across his face and neck.

“A little better?”

“Yeah, thanks lover boy.”


End file.
